state of agitation seemed to have dissolved. Anxious to complete her unpleasant duties, Mavis retied the captive's wrist and reached into the deep pocket of her apron for another length of rope.
Lil had emphasized that she wanted both wrists tied, though in her present state, the poor thing was hardly a threat to anyone.
Jenny curiously studied the bonds that restricted her freedom to move about the confined space of her room. She felt no sense of alarm, for she really had no place to go, did she?
With infinite care, her dazed mind slowly turned over the question of why she would be bound so securely but abandoned the effort soon enough when she found it too strenuous an activity.
Mavis finished her work, emptying the bath water and returning the previous day's tray to the small kitchen that serviced the saloon's live-in staff. When she was about to leave, she glanced back with a troubled expression. Jenny smiled, as if to say there was nothing to worry over, and Mavis made a hasty retreat, locking the door after herself before she surrendered to her impulse to disobey Lil's orders and leave the girl unbound.
Jenny slept again, aware that time had passed when she woke only by the gathering shadows at the edges of her room. The single lamp, placed on the nightstand to her left, had burned a quantity of oil and gave off a dim, flickering glow that caused the shadows to shift and dance in a constantly changing pattern.
Once more she drifted into a deep sleep, unaware that Mavis had entered to replenish the lamp's oil supply. The opium-induced rest was also uninterrupted when, several hours later, the door was unlocked once more, and Beau Stanner quietly entered, locking it once more from within.
Beau walked to the side of the bed, his steps muffled against the worn carpeting. The ropes that bound Jennifer Bryant to brass rungs of the headboard came as no great shock as he recalled the wild struggle he'd had getting her into the room without arousing anyone's suspicions.
She was a hellcat, all right! Beneath that ladylike air of good breeding, she was as spirited as any woman he'd met. It had been a long time, as far back as the pre-War South, since he'd chanced on someone like her, and the desire that had flamed within him on the long ride to Helena had stirred him to arraction that surprised even himself.
He'd gone to Lil, offering to give up his share of the stolen gold to spend one night with the girl. He wanted the chance to possess the abducted girl before LiI returned her for the ransom she'd demanded from the bank agent in Langdon who handled her father's account.
Lil's first reaction had been surprise at his offer, but she'd recovered quickly enough to laugh and call him a fool. He could have had all her girls combined for such a cost. "Keep your whores," he'd snapped in reply. He'd had his fill of the cheap, painted bitches who worked for Lil. All he wanted was the girl he'd captured, with her very proper English accent and fresh, untouched beauty.
Now he stared down at her, mesmerized by the enticing swell of white breasts straining gently against the black lace that confined them, and he knew he would have paid twice as much for the pleasure he anticipated. Desire tightened into a knot that twisted deep in his belly, and the physical evidence of his arousal surged to swollen hardness so swiftly he took a deep, gulping breath to calm himself.
Beau was stunned by his feelings. Here he was, an inveterate womanizer, a hardened man who had made his living as a thief, a loner who allowed his bitterness over the South's defeat to ride as his constant companion. And now his hands shook with the nervousness of a boy about to lose his virginity. His fingers fumbled at his shirt and belt, and he swore a sharp oath as he struggled to pull off his boots.
Finally he was free of encumbering clothing and, with an impatient kick, shoved the pile against the wall. Even more than her physical beauty, it was the fact that
Lil had emphasized that she wanted both wrists tied, though in her present state, the poor thing was hardly a threat to anyone.
Jenny curiously studied the bonds that restricted her freedom to move about the confined space of her room. She felt no sense of alarm, for she really had no place to go, did she?
With infinite care, her dazed mind slowly turned over the question of why she would be bound so securely but abandoned the effort soon enough when she found it too strenuous an activity.
Mavis finished her work, emptying the bath water and returning the previous day's tray to the small kitchen that serviced the saloon's live-in staff. When she was about to leave, she glanced back with a troubled expression. Jenny smiled, as if to say there was nothing to worry over, and Mavis made a hasty retreat, locking the door after herself before she surrendered to her impulse to disobey Lil's orders and leave the girl unbound.
Jenny slept again, aware that time had passed when she woke only by the gathering shadows at the edges of her room. The single lamp, placed on the nightstand to her left, had burned a quantity of oil and gave off a dim, flickering glow that caused the shadows to shift and dance in a constantly changing pattern.
Once more she drifted into a deep sleep, unaware that Mavis had entered to replenish the lamp's oil supply. The opium-induced rest was also uninterrupted when, several hours later, the door was unlocked once more, and Beau Stanner quietly entered, locking it once more from within.
Beau walked to the side of the bed, his steps muffled against the worn carpeting. The ropes that bound Jennifer Bryant to brass rungs of the headboard came as no great shock as he recalled the wild struggle he'd had getting her into the room without arousing anyone's suspicions.
She was a hellcat, all right! Beneath that ladylike air of good breeding, she was as spirited as any woman he'd met. It had been a long time, as far back as the pre-War South, since he'd chanced on someone like her, and the desire that had flamed within him on the long ride to Helena had stirred him to arraction that surprised even himself.
He'd gone to Lil, offering to give up his share of the stolen gold to spend one night with the girl. He wanted the chance to possess the abducted girl before LiI returned her for the ransom she'd demanded from the bank agent in Langdon who handled her father's account.
Lil's first reaction had been surprise at his offer, but she'd recovered quickly enough to laugh and call him a fool. He could have had all her girls combined for such a cost. "Keep your whores," he'd snapped in reply. He'd had his fill of the cheap, painted bitches who worked for Lil. All he wanted was the girl he'd captured, with her very proper English accent and fresh, untouched beauty.
Now he stared down at her, mesmerized by the enticing swell of white breasts straining gently against the black lace that confined them, and he knew he would have paid twice as much for the pleasure he anticipated. Desire tightened into a knot that twisted deep in his belly, and the physical evidence of his arousal surged to swollen hardness so swiftly he took a deep, gulping breath to calm himself.
Beau was stunned by his feelings. Here he was, an inveterate womanizer, a hardened man who had made his living as a thief, a loner who allowed his bitterness over the South's defeat to ride as his constant companion. And now his hands shook with the nervousness of a boy about to lose his virginity. His fingers fumbled at his shirt and belt, and he swore a sharp oath as he struggled to pull off his boots.
Finally he was free of encumbering clothing and, with an impatient kick, shoved the pile against the wall. Even more than her physical beauty, it was the fact that
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